Reality
by Jon'ic Recheio
Summary: O'Neill is alone in his living room thinking about Carter and Pete, and where his feelings tie into all of it.


Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate SG-1, however, I do own the song in this fic!

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_When I wake I find my dreams, were just that, dreams. _

_Things of my mind created to cause me more confusion _

_Than that is already there_

O'Neill looked down at the radio as the first sounds of the song came through. He wasn't really listening, not really. Being half passed out might have a little to do with that however. Yeah, that's right, the great General Jack O'Neill was sloshed, drunk as a skunk and possibly more. Sitting alone in his living room the curtains drawn tight, letting now moonlight in. He pored another shot of Jack Daniels and downed it in one go.

_I feel your touch as I wake_

_But once I have _

_I find my self-alone _

_I long to hold you_

God what a dumb song! His mind said. Not that he was in the mood for anything else anyway. He wanted to have a pity party so why not put some music that matched the theme? After all it wouldn't do to be listening to up beat happy music when you wanted to feel down in the blues. He supposed he had a reason, yeah he had one, just didn't want to admit it. Carter was getting married. That was a reason for being drunk on a Friday night, and alone in his dark living room, which needed to be cleaned. The carpet smelt like day old dirty water.

_As the light seeps through the window_

_Reality comes crashing down_

_The cold hard truth hits me like a lightning bolt_

_You were never here_

_I find my self-feeling empty Without you_

God! Did the whole world know how he was feeling all of the sudden? Yeah sure, he could be the poster boy for the person in that song for cryin' out loud! What was with this? He sighed. He knew what was. He was hurt, badly. Carter had hurt him, and he couldn't think of anything else to do except to numb the pain, and that didn't seem to be working at the moment. No, all the alcohol was doing was making it worse. It seemed the more plastered he got the more he started to think about it, about 'him', and about her. God he couldn't stop thinking about her when he wasn't drunk!

_In my dreams you are there_

_Smiling up at me_

_Your eyes sparkling in the morning light_

_But when wakefulness comes _

_And the sun rises in the sky_

_I lose you_

Oh, heck yeah! She was in his dreams all right! She had the lead role! How many nights did he wake only to roll over and find the other side of the bed empty and cold? How many times had he thought he heard her laughter or felt her lips on his and she wasn't really there? Too many to count. His mind told him. Too many times, so many he didn't know where to start. He had dreams of her up at the cabin, swinging a little boy between them, and his sister perched on his shoulder. They would laugh and play and be happy. He never wanted to wake up from those dreams.

_Your presence becomes but a faded memory_

_And I find my self longing for your touch_

He sighed, and gulped back another shot of the amber liquid. Yeah, he could almost 'feel' her in the house, but then she was gone. He could almost imagine that she loved him too. Every time she walked into the room his heart rate would double, every time she brushed past him he couldn't say a word. All that mattered was her, the way she walked, talked, smiled, laughed, and even cried. The way she would always smile at him, she didn't do that anymore. No, she only smiled like that for 'Petty'.

_As the light seeps through the window_

_Reality comes crashing down_

_The cold hard truth hits me like a lightning bolt_

_You were never here_

_I find my self-feeling empty_

_Without you_

Is it worth it anymore? He wondered. Going to work everyday and sitting in that old office doing nothing but reading and writing? Getting so bored that not even the games on his computer held his attention. Or sitting in that old leather chair dreaming of all the things that could have been? Why did it have to be this way? Why did his world have to end so soon after it had begun? She was the breath of life to his soul after Charlie, now the life seemed to be fading again. He was moving back into that all to familiar hole. The one where no one could reach him, where he was alone in his misery where no one could hurt him, and he couldn't hurt them.

_I long for you to call my name_

_But in Reality _

_Oh, in Reality _

_That'll never happen_

_Because I'm sure_

_I'm never gonna be yours_

"Ain't that the truth." He muttered under his breath, downing another shot. He tried to pour another but changed his mind and put the bottle to his lips. Yeah, that was better, much easier than putting it in the glass. That's what he was always doing, he mused. Taking the easy way out, like now. He could go to her, if he thought it would do any good. He knew it wouldn't. Nothing would.

_As the light seeps through the window_

_Reality comes crashing down_

_The cold hard truth hits me like a lightning bolt_

_You were never here_

_I find my self-feeling empty_

_Without you_

Life can suck sometimes. He sighed. Change that it sucks all of the time, maybe there's a few bright spots, but those are rare and hardly come enough. All his life had been was pain, except maybe that little time when he had Charlie and Sara, and maybe when he thought Sam loved him and wanted him. But then what would she want with an old soldier anyway? It was probably just a case of hero worship that passed over. He knew it had, if this 'Pete' guy was any indication.

_Oh, I'm never gonna be yours _

_Because someone already is_

Yeah someone already was. Someone had come along and ruined his dreams, not that it hadn't happened before. He'd had plenty of his dreams squashed, why should this be any different? Because you weren't in love last time idiot!

'_Cause that's reality_

'_Cause that's reality_

_This is reality_

_Because this is our Reality_

Yeah this was their Reality, it wasn't some place through the Quantum Mirror, this was their home, and their time, their dreams that were so different, yet they were the same.

He took one last pull from the bottle before turning off the radio and succumbing to all of the whiskey he had drank. The black oblivion proved to be his friend over the years, and it had yet not to be.

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AN: That's it folks, my very bad attempt at writing! Please drop me a note, thanks! 


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